Desperate Decisions
by Morna
Summary: A one shot about who Link's parents were with a unique twist to the plot. It is from a first person perspective of his father and the decision he must make to save his son.


Desperate Decisions

This is just a unique take on Link's parents and what must have occurred at the events of his birth. I know that some of the information maybe wrong in the legends but I had to adapt it somewhat to fit the story line. As you know Legend of Zelda and all of its characters is copyright of Nintendo. So don't sue me.

"Milord they've crossed the moat and broken through the portcullis," the solider panted and paused as he caught his breath, "the men held off as long as they could before retreating to the middle wall." The small soldier took in another gulp of air as he stared at his liege lord with large brown eyes.

The King felt something crumble and break down inside of him: some half-hidden hope that he had kept during the entirety of the battle, now he felt that hope dying inside his chest. It was over now. All they could do was hope that the enemy would be merciful, but that was doubtful. The bastard had a taste for vengeance and blood; he would not stop until he saw every single person was slaughtered. The King felt a bad taste in his mouth suddenly as the bile rose in his throat at the imagery that his mind produced. He sighed and put his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and massaged it.

"Tell your commander to place archers along the wall and reinforce the doors with every scrap of furniture they can muster. Also prepare to take all the women, children, and elderly out of here with whatever supplies you can scrounge up. Tell him that he is to select an order of twenty five knights and a hundred foot soldiers, if he has that many, to accompany the people." He suddenly felt older than he was, it was all happening so fast. Had it truly been only a month ago that they had been feasting in the great hall?

The soldier stared at him for a moment as he took it all in. "But Milord if we take that many knights and soldiers there won't be enough to defend the city should the enemy break through."

The King let out another sigh and slumped deeper into the throne, "It won't matter either way. The city will fall eventually. We have not enough supplies for a siege and they have twice as many men as we do. The most we can do is evacuate the people. Now go tell your commander and be gone from my sight." He flicked his hand in an annoyed gesture that sent the boy skittering out the room.

He sat on his throne for some moments before a restless energy overtook him and then he began to pace around the room. _No, no I can't just stay here,_ he thought agitatedly. He strapped his sword onto his back and felt a shiver up his spine as it thrummed in response to the contact with his shirt. He swung his cloak around his shoulders and began to make his path toward the middle wall. The castle was composed of three circular walls. The first one housed the city, the second one encircled various buildings and compartments of the castle, and the last one guarded a single tower where the royalty could retreat should the threat ever pass the other two. The foe had already passed the first wall and was now working on the second one. It was just a matter of time. Already he thought he heard the sound of rams butting into the set of doors that guarded the middle gate.

His strides grew longer as he sought to get to his destination more quickly. He found his fingers itching and twitching as he tried to control the urge to unsheathe the sword and start fighting with invisible enemies. He breathing quickened and he felt his heart hammering in his chest as he drew closer to the fighting. He practically ran across the court yard that separated the inner most tower from the last wall. The knights guarding the wooden gate of it said nothing as they opened them with a large creak to let their king through. Everyone knew that he wanted nothing more than to be out there cutting a swath among the enemy. But when a man becomes a king he is not allowed such liberties as risking his life.

His mind was now that buzzing blankness that it so often became when he got a rush of adrenaline at the thought of entering battle, even though his mind knew that it was not possible his body was still preparing for it.

He exited the first gate and cut across the barracks of the troops and the kitchens to the outer courtyard that would have normally greeted visitors. The place was full of tension so thick that it could choke a man and it only grew thicker as the men noticed their king striding among them. He paid them no attention only stopping to examine the job that the men were doing of barricading the gate that lead into the second part of the castle. It was roughly done but then again there had not been much time for preparation. From his estimates the first had been overtaken within four or five hours and it seemed from the heavy thunking on the outside of the second wall this one would not hold even that long.

He sighed and approached the guard tower that led up onto the turrets where he could hear the twang of archer's bows. He entered and barely registered the knights who bowed to him. At this point, they were all starting to look the same, strangers and dear friends alike. He could not bear to memorize their last expressions knowing very well that after this night he would not see many of them ever again, except for on the other side. He grabbed up a long bow leaning up against the stone wall and a quiver full of arrows. The knights protested distantly in the background of his mind but he ignored them and mounted the flight of stairs.

He climbed them quickly. He felt another wave of adrenaline run through his body. He had planned on simply observing the battle but the opportunity had shown itself and he had not had the will to resist it.

At last, he reached the door leading out onto the battlements. He exhaled deeply and looked around for an empty parapet to hide behind. The archers were too busy firing off another volley of arrows to notice his arrival so he took up an empty one quietly. For a moment, he stuck his head out over the wall and saw to his dismay that the army was a huge, quivering mass at the foot of the wall. He saw the men with their torches as they ordered the foot soldiers to heave the battering ram into the fortified gate. His heart shuddered as he heard the gate creak beneath the force of the impact and inhaled as he ducked behind the parapet again to ready the bow. He drew out an arrow and pulled the bow string back to his ear. His eyes focused and narrowed as he zoned in on one of the men heaving the huge makeshift battering ram. He let the arrow fly and felt a moment of satisfaction as he heard the death scream of the man that it hit. It seemed he hadn't lost his touch with the bow. He had always excelled in all things dealing in combat and prided himself on his prowess with weapons. He felt the sword on his back sing faintly as it called for him to take it in his hand and plunge into the ocean of men below him. He closed his eyes and quieted it for a moment. No this was all he could do.

He readied another arrow, and once again its flight was accompanied by another satisfying gurgle as another man fell. He continued this process for another span of minutes before he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. He turned around swiftly before ducking below the cover of the stone square again to face the person who had dared disturbed him. He was about to scold the man when he was met with the seamed and wrinkled face of his old friend.

The man bowed his hunched frame before straightening again and smoothing out his deep purple robes and long, white beard. "I am sorry to disturb you my friend, but your wife requests your presence. She knew you would come out here and believes it is unsafe." The old man smiled benevolently and mindlessly petted the hawk that sat on his shoulder.

"Yes, of course, I will come," the King breathed. He laid his bow and quiver of arrows down on the floor and followed his friend and advisor back to the innermost tower.

_So much loss_, he thought to himself as he strolled through his home. On this journey through the castle he did take in each and every detail so that he might keep it safely inside his mind. He blinked back tears as he hailed old friends that passed by him grim faced. _They all know what is coming,_ he pondered bitterly. Soon the grand and beautiful stone work that surrounded him would be reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble that would be picked over by scholars hundreds of years from now. They would wonder what had happened to this place and what kind of people had lived here. But all of their assumptions and research would never do justice to the idealism and hope that this city had stood for. All that he had built up from squabbling lords and peasants would soon be scattered to the four winds. But still he had, at least in part, accomplished his goal of unity and peace, even if it hadn't lasted for as long as he had hoped.

After several minutes of walking they finally passed through the last gate and came upon the innermost tower. It stood defiantly and proudly in the light of the half moon as if daring someone to try and knock it over. Sadly though, in the end it too would fall.

They skirted along the edge of the tower and came upon an old, oaken door. The old man knocked upon it six times in a familiar pattern and it creaked open ominously to allow them into the ensuing darkness.

Her face was carved into angles and shadows as the candle on the floor next to her flickered weakly. Already, he could see that death was upon her door. Her skin was no longer fair but pale without color or life to it. Her hair still shone that beautiful ebony that he so loved but even it seemed to have lost some of its sheen. Her eyes lit up momentarily as they fell upon; but immediately, they dimmed again. She let out a rattling breath and eased herself deeper into the mound of pillows cradling her frail form.

"Love," she wheezed and held out a weak hand to him.

He knelt beside her and took that cold, small hand in his own larger one. "I am here. Always here." He kissed her knuckles lightly and looked eagerly upon the baby at her breast.

She shook her head feebly, "You have a son."

His heart sank at that. "That is good. Thank you."

She tried to manage a laugh but ended in a fit of coughing, "Do not play coy with me. I may be dying but I am not stupid."

"Do not speak that way," he cooed to her quietly.

"It is too late. I am dying. The midwife has done all she can to stem the bleeding but it was too much. I know that you were hoping for a daughter."

He shook his head vigorously, "No, a son is delightful." He forced a weak smile unto his features and looked up imploringly at his old friend. The old man shook his head sadly and resigned himself to standing in the corner.

A sudden burst of energy seemed to seize her suddenly as she rose off the mound of pillows to grasp his hands in her own. She gave him a grave look with her sapphire eyes and spoke in a raspy voice, "He will be killed, because he is a boy. They will search to the ends of the earth for him." Her voice began to crack and break as she fell back onto the pillows and gave a long hard sob.

To this he could say nothing. It was true. If the baby had been a girl perhaps her life would have spared and a betrothal struck up. But a boy was a direct heir and too dangerous to be given the opportunity to live. He caressed the side of her tear stricken face with his hand as he stared at the doomed child. The infant was surprisingly calm given the events that had concurred during the events of his birth. The King could not help but feel a bit of pride at the thought that already the child was brave. But that bravery would be short lived.

"Take him," she whispered, "Hold your son before we all fall."

He swallowed and took the baby from her frail arms. He cradled the small thing against his chest and stared down at him with a mixture of pride, joy, and sadness. The small, red child turned its round face towards him and blinked up at him with milky, blue eyes that all babies had. He smiled as he gently laid a kiss upon his son's forehead and caressed the golden curls that covered the infant's head.

His happy moment was abruptly brought to a crashing halt as he heard the second gate break. They all held their breath for a moment as the world seemed to halt. They heard the triumphant cries as the enemy pounded through the last remnants of the gates and began to slaughter the knights that had been awaiting them.

The wizard finally stirred from his position in the corner and approached the royal couple. "I can save the child," he whispered.

They both looked up at him for a moment of disbelief before the King spoke, "How?"

The old man leaned heavily on his staff, "I can take him far away from here. So far no one will ever find him."

They blinked at him for a moment still puzzled. "I can open a portal to the Other World. He will survive and grow there."

The King lifted an incredulous eyebrow, "The Fair Folk would allow this?"

The wizard sighed, "I have a powerful friend there who will take the babe in. He has a great destiny, like you. They will take him."

The king bowed his head over the child and stared down at him for one final moment, "Fine, but take his mother too. I would not have them disgrace her body."

Merlin nodded solemnly at Arthur's request. "Yes, I think I can do that. But you, my friend," he shook his head helplessly, "my magic is weak you will have to stay here."

The King shrugged his great shoulders as the candle light glinted off his golden hair, "It doesn't matter. I will die with Camelot. They are all that matters now."

"Of course, I would have expected no less from my prized pupil," Merlin stared down happily at his student, and took the baby gently from his arms. He cradled the infant against his old chest and stared down at the child whose destiny lay so shrouded in the mists of time. But even through all that the old wizard knew it would be a great one.

He knelt on the cold stone floor and placed his thin palm against Guinevere's sweaty forehead. She had already slipped into the coma that the dead always fall into before they make their journey to the afterlife. He began to summon the last of his failing powers to cut through the thread of the worlds like a knife, but was interrupted as Arthur began to speak once more.

"Wait, take this." He began to unbuckle the leather belt slung across his chest. He laid the sword bare on the floor and unsheathed it in the flickering light of the candle. It sang softly and resonated with a faint blue light.

"But you will be defenseless," Merlin protested.

Once again, Arthur shrugged, "It doesn't matter I am as good as dead. Besides it is his birthright." He reverently handed Excalibur to his old friend.

Merlin nodded sagely, already feeling a piece of destiny falling into place like a puzzle. Yes, this was necessary. "Well, take care my old friend. I shall see you in the next life."

Arthur merely nodded wordlessly as Merlin summoned his last bit of power and forced a portal between the thread of the worlds and carried his wife and son through the portal to meet their destinies.

Merlin caught one last glimpse of his friend and student who sat solemnly on the floor as the portal flooded over the three people and sucked them into a different world.

They landed quietly in an ancient grove where in the center stood a massive tree. Merlin stood with the baby in his arms and stared down at the child's mother. She was already gone, the journey having taken the last of her with it. He sighed and stared down at the infant boy in his arms, "Well, welcome to Hyrule Link. Welcome to your destiny, Hero of Time."


End file.
